Counting Candles
by Rhea-samma
Summary: No one has ever asked my why I live here. Nobody comes, nobody goes. The existential ramblings of an old, old fool. Trust me, read, review.


As I was doing the crossword I was inspired to write this. It's short, strange, and...well it's different. I think I'm also subconciously inspired by Neil Gaiman's _Sandman_ series. A very serious Count-centric piece. An existentialist, semi-Buddhist rambling on his part.

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Well well, a visitor. I don't get those very often.

However since you're here, shall we go out to the garden? It gets rather stuffy in here..no? Oh. I see, you're just here to  
deliver a message for Konoe. I see, I see.

An exchange of scrolls, a sigh, and my visitor leaves.

It's a shame really, because I had felt, for a moment, the desire to share my story with someone. (Oh yes,I have a story.  
Everyone does after all.)

There are so many candles here, the heat is greater than that of any furnace. And day by day, minute by minute, hour by hour,  
it is my duty to blow them out. The funny thing is that no one ever asks my why anymore. Not even my dear Tsuzuki. It  
was ages ago. So long ago...

I was never human to begin with, though I lived with them, instead of in the imaginary realm. It was because I lived with  
people that I was mortal.

It frightened me.

As I slowly got older and older the panic drove me more and more insane. Finally I offered myself up for the gods. I told  
them that if they could rescue me, if they could prevent me from dying, I'd do whatever it took in return.

I suppose it could have been worse.. a demon could have answered my prayers (though I'm not sure one didn't) instead of the previous count.

Yes, there had been someone else in my position. I am only the sixth, but I may be the last. No one seems to call on the  
gods anymore, at least not in ways that make us listen. (Though truly I am no god, but neither am I demon or man.)

The way he described it to me was so...innocent. So appealing. I guess there are few people nowadays who are as afraid of  
death as I was.

I could take his place, he told me. In a mysterious hall filled with candles. And all these candles were the life-force of  
others. But for every candle extinguished, another year I would live. This would continue until the end of the human race, or  
until I could find another to take my place and transfer the contract unto him.

It seemed like a good idea at the time.

I've often looked for a replacement. I've only found two people even willing to consider it. The first one was scared right  
off though. Didn't believe a word I said about the King of Hades or anything. Called me a devil and then went on his way. Rude  
really.

The closest I ever came was about two hundred years ago. It was an older man, on his deathbed. I could sense his fear of  
death, so palpable, so consuming, so raw. I made the offer. The old man considered. He pondered. I reined in my patience.

I was ecstatic. I was sure my suffering was at an end.

And yet still the old man thought. I started to become perplexed. He wouldn't.. refuse would he? How could he refuse!? He  
continued to think. Damnit man! He opened his mouth to speak. I held my breath, despite not having needed to breathe for ages.

And what happened next?

The old man died.

Just like that! I couldn't believe it! I was so furious. He had the nerve to DIE before giving me an answer!

It's not that I'm not afraid of death. I still am. It's just that this existence is so terribly painful... Because my fear of  
death had overshadowed the weariness of my soul, so much that I had not noticed when I was mortal. It's also terribly lonely  
here.

I don't think it's death itself that scared me...still scares me. It's the fact that I do not know what happens after.  
Surprised? I do not know what happens. It is a journey I have not taken, I merely send others on their way.

Some days I secretly fantasize about blowing out every single candle here. Ending my suffering.

But then I would be alone, and I would have to wait here in the dark for time without measure...

And that thought scares me more than death.

So instead I sit, and count, adding up the years, taking lives, extending my own. Talking to the candles and the illusions  
they create, for they're my only company.

And as I count, there is a ripple, a great shudder throughout the flames.

And one by one...

They all go out...


End file.
